


Fragile Like Glass

by turnupfortrash



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, Gentleness, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Rope Bondage, Trans Male Character, Trans Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 09:34:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20486702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnupfortrash/pseuds/turnupfortrash
Summary: I wanna be held, fragile like glass'Cause I've never felt nothing like thatAKA the soft steter bdsm fic with a heavy amount of vaguely weird introspection that no one asked for





	Fragile Like Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, few notes...
> 
> 1- I wrote this in two big spurts, one a long time ago and one late tonight. It has not been beta read and I can guarantee there are some grammatical/tense issues in it. Sorry *shrug emoji*
> 
> 2- There are different things in this fic that are obviously not representative of everyone's experience. Just in case we need the reminder lol 
> 
> all in all, I hope yall enjoy!

The ebb and flow of mental health is difficult to deal with for the layperson, let alone for those whose health is directly affected by the supernatural elements hidden from the rest of the world. Stiles doesn’t think about being possessed much anymore, years have passed and new problems have come and gone, but when looking back at his life that was a major turning point. For many reasons. 

Beyond the obvious physical and mental stress on his body, being possessed by an evil spirit was what set him down his current life path. Leaving behind his dreams of following in his Dads footsteps, having seen too much blood and mayhem for his lifetime, to start his career in writing. More specifically writing and curating books for the supernaturally inclined. Creating the underpinnings of a web system that, with the help of a beautiful redhead, became a resource for dozens around the world. Beyond that, however, a huge part of the change in Stiles’ life was the new relationships he developed along the way. 

Peter Hale. The knowledgeable but frustratingly vague (and handsome) werewolf that held sole access to the Hale library. Doling out inane requests just for Stiles to gain access to it one book at a time. As time went on, the requests got more and more ridiculous. From procuring him rare ingredients or doing 100 pushups, all the way to going clothes shopping with him or buying him dinner at his favourite French restaurant. In fact, as time went on the requests not only became more ridiculous, they became dates. If you had asked teenage Stiles, he would have agreed that dating Peter Hale is by far the most ridiculous thing one can do. 

However, by the time Stiles had digitized the last book, he still found himself going back to Peter’s home. Falling into the routine they had inadvertently set up over the past few months. 

“I think I might need to reread some of those.” He had said when Peter arched a brow curiously. 

Of course, Peter had smirked, putting on a confident farce that they both knew Stiles could see beyond. Because Stiles knew, like he knew about himself, that underneath the sarcasm and biting wit was an ocean. A maelstrom of trauma and poor coping mechanisms that were constantly fighting at the surface. 

But like the ocean, it has its moments. The tides go in and the tides go out, and life is filled with good days and bad. What people don’t talk about are the days in between. Where nothing is particularly bad but nothing is really that great either. Those days where you cling to the supports you have because it feels like one strong current could pull you under. 

Research prepares you for the bad, tells you what to expect and how to deal with it. Stiles is good at research. Research doesn’t tell you how to measure and track your life as things start to slip away. How to notice the days you wake up and have no desire for something you used to love. It’s only in hindsight that you can tell that things have started to slip. That the previous ebb and flow has developed into some tangled web, where Stiles isn’t quite sure where anything is headed now. 

This story isn’t about tangled webs, nor is it about the ebb and flow. It’s about trying to recapture the joy and feelings in those in-between moments. About acknowledging what you’ve lost and not trying to steal it back, but to move on to something else. Not always better than before, but better than drowning. 

* * *

It happened on a Wednesday. No different than any of the Wednesday’s before it. Stiles woke up alone in bed, Peter no doubt haven gone for a run while he slept in. It was probably late, Stiles thought briefly about checking the time on his phone but decided it was too much effort. Instead, he starfished, hands seeking out the last of the warmth from Peter’s side of the bed. Stiles had planned to do some housework and visit Scott and the girls today but already he could see that drifting away. Instead, he pulls the blanket over his head, let his breath fill the space and warm him up. It was there that Peter found him, body still and breathing deeply. 

“You awake under there?” Peter questions as he climbs onto the bed, spooning up against the lump of blankets that was Stiles’ body.

“Unfortunately.” Stiles gathers all his energy and pushes himself closer to the preternatural warmth of Peter’s body. 

“Hmmm…” Peter nosed his way under the blanket to press a kiss against his neck. “Bad day?”

Stiles mumbles his agreement, closing his eyes as his body sinks further into the bed. 

“Do you want me to help?”

“Please.”

* * *

The blindfold was the first thing to go on and Stiles can feel some of the tension leave him as it tightens over his eyes. He sat on the end of the bed and let Peter move his limbs as he took his sleep clothes off. The first time they did this Stiles felt the anxiety build as he tried to figure out what he was supposed to be doing. They ended up stopping partway through and it was after that first failed attempt that Peter gave him the simple answer. Just feel. So that’s what Stiles tried to do now. To focus not on the cotton filling his head but to focus on the rope as it wraps behind his neck, under his arms, before getting secured in that first knot. The gentle tug and pressure gave Stiles something to focus on as he moved up onto the bed in a kneeling position. 

The rope binds his arms and each knot brings a little more calm. The clouds clear from his head and Stiles feels his skin start to tingle. Peter tugs and Stiles leans forward as his arms are secured to his thighs. 

“I don’t want you to speak right now, I want all your focus to be on your breath. Just feel the rope and how it moves with you.” Peter’s voice is low and calm, “When you’re ready, I want to know if you want to continue or if you want to just stay like this.”

Stiles thinks about it for a moment, does he want to continue? It’s a common enough question, distinguishing from the physical and the sexual. He does what Peter asks, focuses on his breath and the rope. With every breath, Stiles could feel his body, feel all the points where it presses against the soft strands. It had been a secondary feeling up until then but it was there, arousal. Slowly, Stiles nods. 

Peter’s hot breath ghosts over his torso, his fingers trailing behind them. Stiles lets out a quiet gasp when his nipples are pinched and pulled. His body feels like a livewire and it’s all shooting right down between his legs. When his hands move away, Stiles tenses while he waits for what’s coming next. He’s not disappointed when Peter’s mouth closes over his cock, a finger slipping into his slick front hole. It’s an overload of sensations and all Stiles can do is sink into it. Relaxing into the pull of the rope and trying to push himself closer to the heat of Peter’s mouth and the second finger he slips in. With his thighs beginning to tremble, Stiles came close to speaking but cut himself off when Peter’s teeth scraped over the head of his cock and it took all of his effort just to remember to breathe. With a shudder and a whimper Stiles came, it rolls over him in waves. Whenever it seemed to end, Peter would lick and nibble and his breath would catch again until he just shatters. A teacup that’s dropped won’t gather itself up again, but luckily for him, Peter is there to pick up the pieces. 

Peter carefully helps him lie down before loosening the knots one by one. When the ropes slip off of him Stiles can still feel the ghost of pressure wrapped around his arms. His body is limp as Peter moves and rearranges him before lying down and pulling him close. The heat of his body is comforting, as it always is, and Peter thrusts lazily against his thigh. Stiles closes his eyes as he drifts in and out of the moment, through it all clinging to Peter’s shoulders. A rumble from Peter’s chest is enough to bring Stiles back, arching his neck. With a low growl, Peter’s teeth close gently around his neck as he came. 

Stiles reaches for the first piece of fabric he can find and wipes himself. He knows it must be one of Peter’s shirt just by the catch in his breath.

“Don’t cum on me next time if you don’t want me to use your shirt.”

Peter snorted, “Feeling better are we?”

“Sort of, still kind of a blah day.” Stiles pauses, “but this helped. Thanks.” 

“Are we staying in bed today?”

“Yeah, that okay?”

“Of course,” Peter smiles before giving him a quick kiss. “Just let me get some food and water for us.”

“Okay…just hold me for another minute maybe? Please?”

Peter’s arms tightened around his waist and they just laid there, and Stiles breathes in the scent of them and relaxes just a little bit more. 

**Author's Note:**

> Edited to add - I had vague ideas about adding cock warming to this because it’s such a pleasant thing to zone out to. But I couldn’t make it fit. If that’s something y’all wanna see lemme know


End file.
